


The Only Living Boy in New York

by Superstitious



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Peter, Bisexual Peter Parker, Coffee Shops, College Student Harley Keener, College Student Peter Parker, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Peter Parker is a Mess, Precious Peter Parker, Soft Boys, Starbucks, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superstitious/pseuds/Superstitious
Summary: Peter and Harley are both college students. Peter prefers to frequent bougie, hipster cafes while Harley works at the campus Starbucks. Fate brings them together over a blonde Americano and it just goes downhill from there.The coffeehouse/college AU I've been waiting my entire career to write.





	The Only Living Boy in New York

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for Parkner Week 2019 and officially three days late. However, I have never been on time for anything in my life so is anyone really surprised?
> 
> What started as a 3k meet-cute is now a 10K slow burn. Due to this, I missed every single day of Parkner week except the first (oops!). To atone for my sins I hit 12 PW prompts in a oneshot. Y’all can try and guess which ones.

Peter was awakened by the sound of running water. _Huh, Ned must be in the shower_, he thought through the haze of sleep, rolling over in bed. _That’s fine I’ll just get in when he’s-_

The implication settled over Peter like a bucket of ice, stripping away the fogginess of sleep. He bolted upright in bed.

Oh no.

Ned was in the shower. For his 8 am shift.

Peter gave himself whiplash with the speed at which he looked toward his alarm clock. A string of anguished “no’s” filled the silence of his room as Peter’s frantic eyes met a black screen. Their shitty apartment building suffered frequent power outages in the past month (“Faulty wiring,” the landlord said the second time the boys asked about it), causing Peter’s alarm clock to reset with each one. Squinting down at his phone screen in the dark, his worst fears were confirmed. It was currently 7:33 and Peter was going to be late to his 8 am cell bio exam.

Leaping from his bed with the agility of an Olympic athlete, Peter wrenched his bedroom door open and stumbled toward the bathroom. He tried the handle and found it locked. “Ned! Buddy, I am so sorry, but I need you to let me in this bathroom RIGHT NOW.” Peter shamelessly hammered the door down.

“Pete! What the fuck are you still doing here?” Ned’s muffled voice drifted out through the wooden door, shower abruptly turning off.

“The fucking power went out again. My alarm never went off at six-thirty!” Peter slumped down against the opposite wall and waited for Ned to exit.

His flatmate emerged in a cloud of steam seconds later, towel tightly wrapped around his waist and wide eyes trained on Peter. “Good luck man, hope you make it.”

“I have to.”

Skipping breakfast and a shower gave Peter ten precious minutes to make himself look presentable. By the time he ran out of their apartment he had fifteen minutes to spare and, despite the stupid risk, Peter was steadfast on stopping for coffee. He hadn’t missed his morning fix in four years and didn’t want to break the streak on exam day (Ned witnessed the disaster that was Peter Parker when he tried to give up coffee for lent freshman year).

Peter was a coveted regular at Beck’s Coffee, a hipster café two blocks from his apartment. However, it was two full city blocks in the wrong direction. If Peter wanted coffee, he had to suck it up and brave the campus Starbucks across from the science building. No honey cayenne latte today. To make up for the morning cram session he had missed out on, Peter mentally ran through his study guide on the walk to campus.

Thanks to sheer determination and blatantly ignoring city traffic laws, Peter reached Starbucks with time to spare. He yanked the door opened and suppressed a shiver as the biting winter wind followed him inside. Eyeing the line, Peter ran a hand through his curls and exhaled in relief, not even aware he had been holding his breath. Peter’s lateness meant most of the 8 am rush was avoided, and only three people stood before him.

While waiting in the queue, Peter pulled up his study guide on Docs in an attempt to still his frantically beating heart. He knew he was an utter disaster inside and out: shifting from foot to foot to curb his nerves, hair a mess from missing his morning shower, and under-eye bags darker than Peter’s irises from the all-nighters pulled for this exam. He was drained, beaten down and ready to fall asleep standing up.

“Mornin’ Darlin’, what can I getcha?”

Peter dragged his eyes up from his iPhone. A Southern accent in New York City, of all places? Absurd. The barista looked at him expectantly, waiting for his order. Peter stared right back; gaze angled upward as the man had at least four inches on him. He swallowed unconsciously, feeling slightly more awake under scrutiny.

“Uh…do you guys have coffee?” Peter heard words coming from his mouth but couldn’t believe they were his. _Idiot._

“Bless your heart, you know this is Starbucks, right?”

Peter felt a faint blush creep up his neck as the corner of the barista’s mouth slowly quirked upwards, expression turning into a smug smirk. “Yeah. Sorry I – God, I’m sorry. I’m already running late and, uh, I kind of hate Starbucks so just make me whatever you have that’s strong.”

Peter rubbed his eyes and pulled out his wallet. He probably shouldn’t tell someone _to their face_ that he hated their place of work, especially when that someone was attractive, but it was before 8 and he was un-caffeinated. Peter let himself be a bit of an asshole.

The barista looked shocked and slightly offended at Peter’s admission but nodded determinedly and entered something into the register. “Name for the order?”

“Peter.” His voice, embarrassingly, cracked on the first syllable. Peter cleared his throat uncomfortably.

The barista’s lip twitched like he was suppressing a smile, “You’re all set.”

Peter gaped at him, “But…I haven’t paid yet?”

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart, it’s on the house.”

“Are you even allowed to do that?” Peter asked, still bewildered and blushing from the terms of endearment. He fumbled with his wallet. “Isn’t that like, illegal?” _Open mouth insert foot, Parker. Good job._

The man looked very amused. “I’m pretty sure they’re not gonna throw me in jail for embezzlement.”

“Harley, that’s…not what that is.” A voice from the other side of the bar interjected with a sigh. Peter looked for the speaker and spotted another barista. She was tall and lanky with long, curly hair tied back in a messy ponytail.

Harley (?) stuck his tongue out at her before turning his attention back to Peter. “Consider it a courtesy to try and convince you not to hate Starbucks.” He flashed a sincere smile at Peter, “Besides, you really look like you could use some free coffee right now.”

Before Peter’s sleep ridden brain could process Harley’s words, the barista had already turned away to start his drink. Peter shuffled towards the other end of the counter and waited for whatever creation he concocted. While waiting, he tried to run through his study guide again, but found he couldn’t concentrate. Peter gave up and settled his gaze back on the barista. He watched while the man fiddled with his Starbucks hat before grabbing something off to the side. As he worked the espresso machine, the thin shirt under his apron highlighted the movements of his biceps.

Peter swiftly averted his gaze. _Molecules, DNA, genomics_…_think of something else. _His eyes drifted towards the second barista as she prepared food for the other customers. Peter unintentionally caught her eye and she quirked an eyebrow in response. He had been staring for too long, oops_._ Peter let out a fake cough, allowing him to subtly reaffix his gaze downwards toward the safety of the floor.

_It’s decided, I can never come back here again._ Peter thought to himself while running a hand through his hair, sighing audibly. _Ned shouldn’t let me out in public, it’s not safe._

“Blonde Americano for Peter.” The girl said as she slid a liquid-filled cup down the counter toward him, tone monotonous as if it was the most boring task in the world.

“Thanks.” Peter had no clue what a blonde Americano was, but he also wasn’t in a position to dwell on it. Reaching for his drink, he caught a glimpse of the girl’s nametag before she turned away: ‘Michelle.’ Caffeine secured, Peter ducked his head and exited Starbucks. His feet hit the pavement and thoughts of Starbucks melted away, replaced instead by pre-exam anxiety. Peter pulled his phone from his parka and stared at the screen: 8:02.

Wonderful.

\--

“Ned Leeds, if you love me, you will make sure I never go back.” After Peter’s initial rush to recount his harrowing experience at Starbucks, he dropped his head onto the table with a resounding ‘thwack,’ arms coming up to cover it completely.

“Well, on the bright side, they probably don’t remember you!” Ned added with a smile, quite unhelpfully in Peter’s opinion.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Ned and Peter’s schedules aligned so they could eat lunch together before parting ways for class. Today, they decided to stay on campus and eat at the Student Union, since it was directly between both of their classroom buildings.

“How did your cell bio exam go?”

“Excuse me, it was actually cell AND mol bio,” Peter said in a mock accusatory tone, “and I think it went fine.” His voice was still muffled as he hadn’t sat up yet. Peter decided to omit the fact that he was late to said exam due to his physiological need for coffee.

“Pete, last time you said that,” Ned jabbed his plastic fork at Peter, “you literally got the highest grade in the class. And your class had 200 kids in it.”

“Yeah, but classes are only gonna get harder. If I keep my grades up now, I can…fail a little later.” Peter shrugged and resumed eating.

“That…doesn’t make sense.” Ned turned his attention back to his laptop. “Besides, you’re the idiot that chose to major in chemical engineering, the most notorious major eng offers.” His fingers typed furiously over the keyboard.

Peter sighed. He didn’t need to be reminded of how he took the hard way for college (“You could’ve just settled for organic chemistry like half the kids at Midtown,” Aunt May told Peter during his first month of college after he called crying over a ‘C’ on an exam. Not his proudest moment). Peter liked a challenge though, and people telling him ‘no’ only made him want to do it more. Besides, he enjoyed pushing the physical limits of the human body.

“How’s the coding assignment going?” Peter asked Ned as he shifted into an upright position in the booth, picking at his french fries. He deflected the topic of conversation.

“This isn’t my coding assignment. I’m grading the freshmeat’s homework for Hope’s class.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you’re the student assistant this semester for Professor Van Dyne.”

“One job isn’t enough to pay the bills, Pete. We can’t all get paid mucho bucks to do research like you.” Ned sighed affectionately at his best friend, who just shrugged in return.

It’s true, Peter was lucky. Freshman spring, a spot had opened up in Doctor Banner’s lab and Peter instantly applied. It provided more than enough money to move-off campus the following year, and experience for his resume. Sure, it was mostly bitch as a lowly undergrad, but it was still hands-on experience. Nothing mattered as long as ‘Peter B. Parker’ had a spot somewhere in the final, published research paper.

“I wonder what the cute barista studies.” Ned waggled his eyebrows at Peter over his laptop, breaking his train of thought.

“I never said he was cute.”

“I never said which one it was,” Ned retorted with a sly smile.

Peter groaned and covered his face with his hands. He thought they were done talking about this. “How do you even know he goes here.”

“Dude, like seventy-five percent of on-campus jobs are work-study only.”

He had a point, but Peter still scoffed it off, “Our school has like, ten-thousand undergrads. I highly doubt I’ll ever see him again since I am never going back.” He emphasized the last part of his sentence with his hands for dramatic effect.

Ned shot Peter a mischievous smile. “Whatever you say, man.”

The duo fell back into their usual banter.

\--

In hindsight, Peter should have known never to tell Ned about his Starbucks field trip. It was Saturday morning and the two boys were headed to the library. Peter’s entire body protested the outing, but he needed the extra study hours for his next exam on Monday.

“Hey Pete, can I stop for food real quick?”

“Ned, you know we can’t bring food into the library.” Peter shot him a confused look.

“Oh Petey, rules were meant to be broken. Besides, you’re the only person in the entire university who actually listens. Even the librarian takes her lunch break at the front desk.” Ned rolled his eyes. Sometimes his flatmate was too pure for this world.

“Wait, what?” Peter’s voice pitched upwards as he stopped walking. “Why do you know the librarian’s-” He was cut off by Ned grabbing his wrist and dragging Peter across the street. A familiar building seemed to be their final destination. Peter fixed Ned with a murderous glare, “We are not _fucking _going back to-”

“Starbucks!” Ned finished enthusiastically while throwing the doors open. He ushered Peter inside.

The early morning meant it was still a tad below freezing, so the customers nearest the door turned when frigid air spilled into their personal space. The intoxicating aroma of coffee filled Peter’s nostrils and he inhaled deeply, sighing in contentment. He hadn’t had his morning fix yet. Clearly, they weren’t the only ones who wanted to get a head-start on the day since at least seven people were ahead of them.

“Hey, is that the cute barista?” Ned asked as he gently tugged Peter’s sleeve to get his attention.

Peter looked up at the ceiling in anguish and let out a frustrated groan. “I regret telling you anything.” Chancing a glance at the bar though, Peter saw Harley was indeed working. Sadly, he was engrossed in making a flurry of drinks. A petite blonde girl was working the register in his stead.

“Oh shit, is that Betty Brandt?” Ned asked in disbelief while grabbing Peter’s arm once again, unknowingly shaking it back and forth.

“Betty….” Peter trailed off in thought, “Wait, that girl from your freshman year history class? The one you spent like, three months pining over?” He scrunched up his face in disbelief and turned to stare at Ned.

His friend, however, was still looking at Betty with a stupid smile on his face. “Pete, we have to come here every day.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose and his eyes widened in disbelief. “You don’t even drink coffee!”

Ned turned and patted Peter on the back. “Good thing they have more than coffee here.” He left his flatmate in favor of striding towards the register since it was their turn to order.

While Ned talked to Betty (“Ned Leeds! From freshman year?”), Peter awkwardly waited off to the side. He shifted his backpack and rubbed the back of his neck to ease how out of place he felt. Of fucking course, Ned had no problem talking to Betty. Why did Ned get to outgrow his awkward, freshman year self when Peter pulled a Benjamin Button?

Stealing another glance behind the bar, he met Harley’s gaze when the other man looked up from the espresso machine. As their eyes met a brief look of recognition crossed Harley’s face before he broke into a lopsided smile. The force of it hit Peter like a train. A familiar flush started creeping up his neck as he smiled back.

“Can you hold on for a sec?” Betty asked Peter over the register as Ned stepped to the side, done placing his order. Peter nodded dumbly, only half paying attention to her. Betty abandoned the register and moved to help Harley on bar. While they wrangled in the influx of coffee orders, Peter could vaguely hear them bantering from where he stood.

“Hey Pete, I was actually thinking we should stay here and study.” Ned cut through Peter’s train of thought.

“What?” His voice rose an octave in disbelief, “What about the library? It’s early, we’ll still find good seats.”

Ned was no longer looking at his friend but scouting for an open table. “Oh hey, look at that a booth just opened up.” He turned back to Peter, “Get the goods for us, Pete, will ya?”

Ned walked away before Peter could protest. He shot daggers at his retreating form. Asshole.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait, Darlin’,” a distinct, southern twang said to Peter.

He stiffened and took a deep breath before turning to face the attractive man behind the counter. “Uh, it’s fine. You guys look really busy.”

“This ain’t nothin’ compared to Sunday mornings,” Harley said to him, familiar lopsided smile on his face. Harley made ‘exhausted’ look good on him, but Peter could still see the bags under his eyes. “I see you came back for more.”

Peter snorted before he could stop himself, “Not by choice. Even if you make pretty decent coffee, let the record state that I still hate Starbucks.” Peter might have sounded confident on the outside, but his heart fluttered in his chest because **Harley remembered him**.

“Of course you do, Darlin’,” Harley said, teasing glint in his eyes. “What can I getcha?”

“Can I have a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich on a bagel, “Peter hesitated before sheepishly adding, “and a blonde Americano.”

Harley laughed. The sound was deep and rich. Peter couldn’t help but watch his eyes crinkle at the motion. Was he swooning? A little. It wasn’t his fault that Harley’s eyes were so _blue_, even in the harsh Starbucks lighting. God, they were like the color of Aunt May’s engagement ring that she never took off, an opulent Indian sapphire.

The eyes in question were currently searching Peter’s face, looking at him expectantly. Oh, Harley must have asked him a question. Right. “Peter,” he assumed Harley wanted his name for the order, same as last time.

Harley’s grin widened and he let out a whistle, “Huh, Peter’s a good name for a bagel, but I don’t think we have any here, Sweetheart.”

Divine intervention could come for Peter anytime now. The floor swallowing him whole would be a nice starting point. His face heated up, “I am so sorry. I…wow, if I knew I was this out of it I wouldn’t have left the house. Everything bagel, please.” Peter knew Harley could see the tips of his ears turning red from embarrassment, but at least he’d never know that Peter was also sweating up a storm under his parka.

Collecting his change, Peter moved over to the pick-up counter. Betty was back at the register and Harley resumed his spot on bar to start Peter’s drink. Today, Peter noted, he was wearing a blue long sleeve under his apron that only served to bring out his stupid eyes. It had to be on purpose.

“Blonde Americano for Peter.” Harley leaned over the counter and met Peter in the middle, transferring the cup to the shorter man’s hands. Their fingers brushed while their eyes met.

The moment was ruined a second later when Michelle sidled up to Harley, two food bags in hand. “I have an order for Ned and an order for Peter?”

“They’re both mine.” Peter took the bags from her, a little disappointed. He shot Michelle a small smile before turning to find wherever Ned decided to sit.

“Did I mention that I hate you?” He slid into the booth across from his “best friend” and unceremoniously dumped the food on the table.

“Hey man, I’m just trying to help you out.”

Peter’s whole body twitched in agitation. He was so tired and just made a damn fool of himself for the second time. “I don’t need _help_ with anything unless it’s my Thermodynamics class,” Peter shot back, roughly shrugging off his parka and taking out his textbook.

Ned laughed off his behavior and started pulling out his food. “Well, you’re the one that said we couldn’t eat in the library, right?

Why was Peter friends with Ned again?

\--

The third time Peter went to Starbucks was of his own volition. He had thermodynamics class at 9 and today was their dreaded midterm. The exam thoroughly kicked Peter’s ass, but he couldn’t even wallow because of the fifteen-page lab report due Thursday. After spending the entire weekend studying for thermo, the report hadn’t been touched since his lab section the week prior.

A multitude of sleepless nights and long days was catching up and Peter was crashing. He rubbed his temples to soothe the onset of another headache. The harsh sunlight only exacerbated the pounding in his head as he stepped out of the engineering building. If he could finish at least five pages of his report today, he would be okay. If he could survive his third midterm on Friday, he would be okay. After that, Peter could finally get more than three hours of sleep and _everything would be okay_.

He couldn’t go back home, lest Peter risk falling asleep in the comfort of his bedroom, and he wasn’t about to walk 20 minutes in the wrong direction to Beck’s Coffee. No, for caffeine Peter was prepared to bite the bullet and go to Starbucks. Harley probably already thought he was the ineptest person in the entire city, so what did he have to lose? It was only five minutes from the library, anyway.

“Keener, your new regular is back.” Peter was barely inside the door when he heard Michelle call to someone in the back room.

“What? Nooo,” Peter squeaked as he drew out the ‘o’ sound, “I’m not…I’m not a regular.” Surprisingly, the café was nearly empty, so he was able to approach the counter unhindered.

Michelle shot him a look that said, ‘sure, whatever you say.’

“Peter, my name is Peter.” He awkwardly held out a hand to her over the register.

She looked at the outstretched appendage and quirked an eyebrow. “Michelle, but my friends call me MJ.” The door to the back room opened and Harley walked out carrying some boxes. MJ moved away so Harley could take her place once he unloaded them onto the floor.

“I see you officially met MJ,” Harley said as soon as she was out of earshot. His voice was flatter than normal. He didn’t sound quite like himself (but it’s not that Peter was an expert in Harley’s mannerisms).

“Yeah. I don’t think she likes me very much though,” he chuckled.

Harley shrugged. “She doesn’t really like anyone, so don’t let it ruin your chances.”

Peter froze. His chances? With MJ? Peter’s face must have reflected his bewilderment because Harley looked confused now too. “Well, lucky for me MJ isn’t the one I need to impress. Last I checked, you made my drinks.”

Whatever mood Harley was in dissipated as his normal demeanor returned. “The usual, Sweetheart?”

Peter started blushing and looked off to Harley’s left, unable to hold his gaze. “Yeah, the usual.”

\--

Come Wednesday night, Peter was desperate to finish his lab report. Two full sections of figures and results stood between him and cram studying for his anthropology exam on Friday (stupid core requirements). It was 6, the sun was setting and Peter still walked aimlessly around campus because he couldn’t go home.

Seeing Betty on Saturday prompted Ned to go back to Starbucks to see her again, and the two had been in steady contact ever since. Tonight was their first officially, unofficial date and Peter didn’t want to third wheel in his own apartment. He could go to the library, but after two weeks of practically living there, Peter didn’t think he could stand it. One more second of red brick walls and the faint smell of mildew that permeated every floor would probably be enough to send him over the edge.

Peter could go to Beck’s Coffee, but he doubted Betty would be gone by the time the café closed. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, Peter thought of one more place he could try that he wouldn't _absolutely_ hate. He sighed in resignation and pulled out his phone, opening Google and typing ‘Starbucks closing time’ into the search bar.

“Well, ain’t this a surprise.” Harley whistled from behind the counter as Peter approached. Of course, Harley was working tonight, why wouldn’t he be. “You sure you’re not a regular now? This is your fourth time here in a week.”

Peter rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, but his smile gave him away. “Maybe I’m just really starting to enjoy the service here.”

“The usual?”

“Yup.” After paying, Peter leaned against the pick-up counter and surveyed the café. There were only a handful of people still inside - all students. Peter was eyeing a nice booth in front of the obnoxious floor to ceiling windows when a finger sharply poked his arm.

“Blonde Americano for Peter.”

He turned and took the cup from her. “Thanks, MJ.” She smiled softly back at him before turning away.

Peter grabbed the table he had been eyeing and sunk down into the booth, grateful to shed his heavy backpack and overly warm parka. He arranged his lab notebook, laptop, coffee and graph paper in (what Peter thought was) an aesthetically pleasing fashion before cracking his knuckles and getting to work.

For the next few hours, Peter turned up his Spotify and tuned out the rest of the world. This level of focus is what caused him to jump a foot in the air when someone plopped down in the seat across from him, a beignet on a plate suddenly thrust into his personal space.

“Holy shit!” Peter wrenched his earbuds from his ears.

Harley held up his hands to placate him, “Whoa! Sorry, Sweetheart didn’t mean to scare ya. I said something, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” He still had on his stupid backwards Starbucks hat, but the green apron was abandoned..

Peter rubbed his tired (and probably bloodshot) eyes as he glanced at his phone screen. His eyebrows rose. “Oh my god, it’s 9:30 already?!” This Starbucks closed at ten, so Peter figured Harley was here to kick him out.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m not here to kick ya out. Everyone else left about thirty minutes ago, so MJ and I are starting our closing duties early. The night manager doesn’t give a fuck what we do past nine as long as no one dies, and nothing burns.” Harley’s southern accent was in full swing now, vowels elongated to the high heavens. He probably felt as tired as Peter looked.

“What’s this for?” Peter gestured to the beignet in front of him.

As Harley ducked his head, Peter picked up on a faint blush painting the other man’s cheekbones. “Oh, at the end of the night, if there’s any baked goods left, we get to eat ‘em or toss ‘em. Figured you needed some fuel if you’re gonna keep burning the midnight oil.” Harley shrugged, trying to seem cool. Peter melted a little inside at the gesture.

He smiled and bit into the beignet, sighing in contentment. Peter had completely forgotten to eat dinner in his anxiety-riddled haze.

Harley reached a hand across the table and grabbed some of Peter’s notes, reading them over. “Is this for the lab component to Professor Lang’s thermo?”

Peter was shocked that Harley recognized the class. “Uh...yeah,” He said in between bites, “I’m in the Thursday lab so this report really should have been done like…two days ago.” He grinned sheepishly at Harley.

“Yeah, I took it last year and it was a bitch.” Harley tossed Peter’s notes back onto the table. He leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms while deep in thought.

“What are you majoring in?” Peter asked, notes forgotten and curiosity piqued.

“Mechanical engineering.”

Peter was a little taken aback. It’s not that he didn’t think Harley _could _be in eng, it just…wasn’t what he expected. It must have shown on his face because Harley broke out into a grin.

“I know what you’re thinking and let me just say, it’s not easy. Between working here four days a week, Tony’s lab for another four and taking classes, it’s a lot. But,” Harley waved a hand, “bills and whatnot.”

Peter nodded; he got it. However, his brain was stuck on something Harley had said. “Wait, whose lab do you work in?”

“Tony Stark’s,” Harley said with a smirk. Peter nearly choked on the last bite of beignet. The little shit knew it was impressive.

“Wha-you-how…_you_ work with Tony Stark?” Peter’s voice rose an octave in awe, “Youngest head of the undergraduate engineering program in university history, certifiable genius, billionaire, philanthropist, co-founder of Stark Industries. _That _Tony Stark?” Peter was a fanboy, what could he say.

Harley scoffed, “Sounds like you’re a fan.”

Don’t get Peter wrong, Doctor Banner had a respectable lab on the 8th floor of the engineering building with state-of-the-art equipment. Hell, Peter even had his own desk in the undergrad office, but it was nothing compared to the 20th floor, which housed The Stark Innovation Lab. Mr. Stark oversaw the entirety of the 19th floor too, as if one wasn’t enough. The elevators were swipe access only past 18, and Peter could only hope to see the labs was through the virtual tour online.

He cleared his throat and tried to play it off, “Yeah, I admire his work.”

Harley saw through the act but pretended to be convinced for both their sakes’. “What do you study?”

“Chemical engineering. I work on 8 in Doctor Banner’s lab.”

“Huh, I can’t believe we’ve never run into each other workin’ in the same building.”

Peter shrugged, “I have morning classes every semester so I can work in the lab for the rest of the day.”

“Ah, I see. Thanks to good ‘ol Starbucks, I can only work in the lab at night.” Harley leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. Peter’s lab report was long forgotten now.

“Nights? Doesn’t the building close at like, 8?”

Harley fished a keyring out of his pocket and flashed a keycard at Peter. “Not if you have one of these babies.”

Peter knew he was probably gaping, but he couldn’t help it. He was unsure if he wanted to date Harley or _be_ Harley.

MJ saved him from any potential embarrassment by sliding into the booth next to him, jacket and oversized bag in hand. “Are you two done making heart eyes at each other? We close in ten and I’d like to actually leave tonight.”

Peter looked down at his notes and cleared his throat. He could feel the tips of his ears turning red and hoped the dingy lighting would disguise it.

“Keener, why don’t you finish closing duties, I’ve held down the fort for long enough tonight.” She fixed Harley with a firm glare as he slid out of the booth, heading toward the counter. Once he left, MJ moved across from Peter into the spot Harley had been occupying.

As Peter silently packed his belongings, he could feel her looking at him. Sizing him up. “So, MJ, what do you study?”

“Criminal justice major, history minor.

“Nice.”

“I know,” MJ replied, tone flat but a smile on her face.

Peter returned the gesture and began to scroll through his email. The two sat in comfortable silence until Harley reappeared, jacket on and backpack in hand.

“Took you long enough,” MJ said in an accusatory tone, though Peter was 80% sure she was all bark and no bite.

Harley rolled his eyes. “Manager’s cutting us loose. He’s finishing up paperwork in the back and said he’d lock up for us.”

The trio made their way out of the warm and into the frigid night. Since it was New York City, the streets were far from deserted despite the lateness of the hour.

“See you tomorrow, Harley.” MJ waved goodbye to him. “Peter,” she nodded in his direction before turning left, heading toward the dorms.

After they crossed at the same two intersections, Harley realized he and Peter were headed in similar directions. He glanced at the shorter man from the corner of his eye. “You live this way?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m right off of 3rd Street.” Peter shoved his hands into his pockets to ease his fidgeting.

“Oh shit, I’m only one up from there.” Harley mirrored Peter, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Peter couldn’t tell if it was a reaction to the cold or nerves. The pair continued walking in awkward silence, air heavy between them with _something_. Peter made sure to keep a respectable distance between the two on their journey home.

“Do you want to see the lab sometime?” Harley blurted out after they cleared another city block in silence.

Peter abruptly stopped in his tracks and turned to face Harley, eyes wide in surprise. The man walking behind Peter swore, but he ignored it, still fixing Harley with an incredulous look. The taller boy seemed shocked as well, as if he couldn’t believe he’d asked.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Harley collected himself. “If you give me your number, we can figure out a time?”

Peter smiled, amused. Harley sounded like he was asking him more than telling him. “Are you kidding? That’d be great! Man, you just made my entire semester. I thought I would die before seeing the inside of Stark Innovation.”

Harley shrugged before returning the smile. “It’s the least I can do for my only regular.”

They exchanged numbers and fell into a steady stream of conversation the rest of their walk home, shoulders nearly brushing by the time they parted ways at the intersection on 3rd. It turned out Peter and Harley had a lot in common in terms of opinions and interests. Who knew Harley Keener was a giant nerd?

Peter was secretly thrilled when Harley got excited over Peter and Ned’s Lego Death Star. He even confessed to owning half of the Lego Lord of the Ring’s sets himself. It was almost enough to excuse the fact that Harley preferred Star Trek over Star Wars.

Almost.

\--

“Harley, face it. You’re always going to be outnumbered here.” Peter wore a serious expression, but his tone was teasing.

“Okay,” Harley rested an elbow on the table and pointed at Peter, “just because you’re all whipped for Star Wars does _not_ mean I’m wrong. Star Trek is still better all around.”

Peter chuckled and shook his head. They were once again sitting across from each other in Peter’s booth by the window (it was officially his booth now) on a Wednesday night while MJ finished her share of closing duties. Harley was still bitter that everyone voted against him during Saturday’s movie night (they unanimously wanted to re-watch _Solo: A Star Wars Story_ when Harley wanted anything but).

After walking home together, Peter really did become Harley’s regular at Starbucks. Losing his loyalty status at Beck’s Coffee hurt a little, and Peter missed the honey cayenne lattes, but his wallet didn’t. Ned already spent half of his time there watching Betty (Peter tried to tell him multiple times it was weird, but Ned just couldn’t see it), and Peter enjoyed staying until close on Wednesday nights to hang out with MJ and Harley.

It only made sense that the five of them eventually formed a motley crew, in the end. Peter still hated Starbucks, but he was thankful for the newfound friends it gave him. The only snag in Peter’s life was that he was still completely and irrevocably gone for Harley. Sometimes, in between the lingering glances, harmless flirting and their Wednesday night walk home, Peter thought Harley maybe liked him too.

He didn’t have time to dwell though, because tonight was the night that Harley was taking him to see Stark Innovation. Peter partially thought it was also so Harley could flex his special keycard after hours, but who’s to say? As MJ locked up in the back, Peter bounced with excitement the entire time.

The ‘goodbye’ to MJ was barely past Harley’s lips before Peter dragged the taller man off towards the engineering building, interlocking his hand in Harley’s.

“Whoa Darlin’, where’s the fire?” Harley asked, wide grin barely suppressing his laughter.

Peter pouted but didn’t stop walking, “I have been waiting practically my whole life for this, Keener.”

Harley just shook his head in response.

Entering the engineering building and knowing he would finally see the top two floors put everything into a different perspective for Peter. Inside the elevators, he stopped Harley before he could slide his ID to unlock the 20th floor.

“Can...can I do it?”

Harley looked at him with a slack-jawed expression. “Are you serious?” Peter gave him his puppy dog face (even MJ succumbed to it once) and Harley’s resolve crumbled. “Fine.” He handed over his ID card. Peter’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as he slid it through the card reader.

Peter didn’t want to be dramatic or anything but stepping onto the 20th floor of the Stark Innovation Laboratory was like a revelation. It was everything he had ever wanted for himself and his future. Doctor Banner’s tech was good, but Mr. Stark’s was better (though in hindsight, why wouldn’t it be?).

“Are you gonna drool on our floor all night, or do you want to see the rest of the place?”

Peter nodded stupidly and followed Harley like a lost puppy.

Harley only had access to the student side of the floor where the post-docs, Ph.D. candidates and undergrads kept their projects. The other half of the lab was locked behind doors that needed higher clearance, since Stark Innovation’s associate professors and Tony Stark himself housed their work there.

Peter was given a brief rundown of each student’s project by Harley (15 in all: three post-docs, five doctoral students and seven undergrads) before he finished the tour at his workstation. “Okay, don’t laugh, but this is a potato gun.” Harley gestured to the creation currently occupying his lab bench.

To be fair, it did look very impressive and probably state of the art. Peter could see code running on his desktop in the background. Harley must have been working on an AI for it too, like JARVIS, the security system that guarded Mr. Stark’s workspaces. Still, Peter couldn’t help himself as a laugh slipped past his lips. “You were accepted into Stark Innovation to work on a _potato gun_? Harley, that’s so…Tennessee.”

“Well, that’s not _all_ I do here, Sweetheart. Tony likes to encourage us to have multiple ongoing projects, to test the most outlandish ideas. He says if we’re not having fun, we’re doing science wrong.”

“I mean, where else will I get the opportunity to blow things up with undergrads?” A voice called out from behind the boys.

Peter’s jaw hit the floor as he looked over at Harley, but Harley was too busy sticking his tongue out in a mocking gesture at the man approaching them.

“You just let us do that so we don’t tell Pepper about the illicit activities you partake in here,” Harley said with a snort.

Peter had to be dreaming because there was no way that _Anthony Edward Stark_, his idol since the age of five, was standing behind them. He subtly pinched his arm before turning around to see if he was dreaming.

“Mr. Stark, oh my god it’s such an honor to meet you!” The words came out in a rush and Peter hoped they weren’t intelligible.

“Please, call me Tony, everyone else here does.” Tony stuck out a hand for Peter to shake.

“Peter Parker. I, uh, I work downstairs in Doctor Banner’s lab.” Peter’s voice rose at least an octave as he started to feel a little overwhelmed.

“Ah, Brucey!” Tony clapped his hands together. “Good man, better scientist. We’re actually in the process of collaborating on something big right now. If you want in, come back during my office hours and we can talk more. I trust Bruce’s taste in undergrads is still superior.”

Tony moved around the two boys to admire Harley’s work. Harley moved with him, but Peter was still rooted to the spot, certain he would wake up from a dream soon. An amazing, stellar dream where Mr. Stark asked him to collaborate on a project in his lab.

“What version is this now, Harls?”

“Mark VI, sir.”

“I see you’ve made the upgrades I suggested.” Tony picked the gun up and twirled it around idly.

“Damn right I did. I actually had a few things I wanted you to look over with my main project, too.”

“Tomorrow, kid. I’m heading home now. If I stay here any longer, I’m pretty sure Pepper will kill me.” Looking down, Peter realized the man had been holding his winter coat and briefcase when he initially ran into them.

“It was nice to meet you, Pete, don’t be a stranger.” Tony did a mock salute to Harley, “Harley, behave and don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.” Peter watched Tony’s retreating form as he made his way to the elevators, still in awe.

“Wow.”

“I know right?” Harley chuckled as he sat back down at his workbench. Tony had uprooted his potato gun from its makeshift dock and Harley wanted to properly put it back before they left.

Peter hesitated for a moment before he walked up to Harley and hugged him from behind. The taller man let out a surprised ‘oof’ at the sudden arms encasing him as Peter rested his head on Harley’s shoulder. Harley stiffened almost immediately, but soon relaxed. It was the most physical contact they’d ever had, but it felt right in the moment.

“Thank you,” Peter said as sincerely as he could. He had a lot to thank Harley for besides tonight, and Peter hoped it translated.

Harley hummed in response as he continued fiddling with his potato gun. Peter dropped his arms but let his head linger a little longer on Harley’s shoulder before pulling away.

\--

Peter knew the other shoe had to drop eventually.

Saturday night was movie night at Peter and Ned’s apartment (their living room was the biggest). That was the rule. All five friends would be there no matter what. It was non-negotiable. So, when Harley announced he couldn’t make it everyone was taken aback. Peter was the most disappointed, both vocally and internally.

“Sorry guys, my group and I need to meet one last time before our presentation on Monday,” Harley told them when the five were together for dinner on Thursday night. He never gave his friends reason to doubt him, so they accepted his answer without further prodding.

Peter wasn’t completely buying it, but then again, no one else in his friend group was in love with Harley. Maybe he was just bitter about being ditched.

Their first movie night without Harley wasn’t particularly different from any other; the quartet’s usual banter was still thrown around Peter’s apartment in full force. He tried to fall into the usual routine, but the Harley Keener shaped hole on Peter’s couch couldn’t be ignored. Movie night without Harley felt _wrong_.

The group unanimously decided on watching _The Avengers_, a timeless classic. Peter and Harley were both Team Downey Jr. while the rest were Team Evans. Peter never understood who would want to pick Captain America over Iron Man, but to each their own.

Halfway through the movie, right when Black Widow was antagonizing Loki, Peter stood up. The sudden movement surprised him and his friends. He couldn’t explain why, but Peter was overwhelmed with the inexplicable need to leave his apartment. Waving off his friends’ concerns, Peter mumbled something about buying more snacks. He hoped walking to the bodega a few blocks over would be enough to clear his foul mood. Besides, Ned had eaten all the popcorn in the first fifteen minutes of the movie, so it wasn’t exactly a lie.

As Winter gave way to Spring, nights in New York City were getting warmer. Peter only needed to grab a hoodie from his room before leaving (he pointedly ignored the fact that it was Harley’s). Exiting the apartment building, Peter traded the laughter and banter of his friends for the stillness of the night. The sounds of the city supplied the soundtrack for his short walk since Peter didn’t bother to grab his headphones from atop his dresser.

The lack of headphones also meant that Peter could hear every conversation happening around him. His apartment was in a residential area, so vehicle traffic was rare. Anything said loudly enough within the same block as an observer could be heard with almost perfect clarity.

Peter wasn’t far from his apartment when one discussion stood out. It wasn’t the words that caught his attention but was the voices. One held the unmistakable twang of a Southern accent while the other belonged to someone Peter hoped to never see again.

Flash. Fucking. Thompson.

If befriending Ned Leeds was the best thing to happen to Peter at Midtown School of Science & Technology, Flash Thompson was the worst. From the day they met as freshman Flash had decided to become the bane of Peter’s existence. Four years Peter spent enduring the cruel nicknames, snide remarks behind his back and laughter directed at him in the halls. He had hoped the reward for his sacrifice would be never seeing Flash’s stupid face again.

Peter had never been so wrong.

Not only did Flash follow him to college, but he also decided to major in engineering (mechanical). This meant that Peter had to meticulously craft his class schedule every semester to avoid courses Flash would be in. His unconventional method must have worked though since they hadn’t crossed paths in two years. He wasn’t surprised that Harley knew Flash, they shared a major after all, but to be _friends_ with the asshole?

This train of thought led Peter down an unpleasant road. It was 10 pm on a Saturday and they were walking down the street Harley that lived on, for fuck’s sake. What could they possibly be doing? A wave of nausea hit Peter as he thought of the couple going to Harley’s apartment. He was pulled from his thoughts as their voices rapidly approached. Peter had only moments to decide whether to hide or face them.

Still obscured by the shadows, Peter spotted the pair before they saw him. He was completely prepared to let them walk by and sulk in peace, but anger bubbled up in Peter’s chest at seeing Flash in person for the first time. Since high school, not only did his nemesis hit the growth spurt that Peter had been praying for since the age of 15, but he also lost his baby fat and found a hairstyle to suit his stupid face.

Objectively, Flash was a reasonably attractive man now. Subjectively, he still had a face that Peter would be happy to punch. Repeatedly.

Peter stepped out of the shadows and blocked their path, anger and betrayal clouding his judgment. “Fancy seeing you here, _Harley_.” Peter’s face formed an ugly sneer as he spat out the name.

Harley and Flash looked equally shocked to see Peter.

“Peter! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at movie night?” Harley seemed puzzled by the turn of events. He squinted down at him, “And is that my hoodie?”

Peter pointedly ignored the second half of Harley’s statement. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” Harley tried to interject, but Peter wouldn’t let him. He shot Flash a disdainful look, “I see what you really ditched us for.”

“Wow, do my eyes deceive me? Is that Penis Parker?” Flash laughed nastily as he looked Peter up and down. “I can’t believe you still go here.” Peter’s nausea returned in full force as unpleasant memories of high school flooded his brain.

Harley’s head swiveled in disbelief as he turned to glare at Flash. “What did you just call him?” His nostrils flared in anger.

Peter ignored him, now focused solely on Flash. “Yeah, yeah, I still go here asshole. Bet I’m still getting better grades than you too, just like old times.” Peter’s hands balled into fists as he rounded on Flash. “You know,” he jabbed a finger accusingly, “I thought maybe you’d change after all this time, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Whatever you say, Penis Parker.” Flash stood nonchalant, a bored expression on his face.

Sue Peter for thinking that, after all this time, maybe Flash could change. His old nickname still stung, especially since he was an adult now. Especially in front of Harley. Peter’s initial anger began to fade and he just felt…empty.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” Harley turned to Flash, starting to read between the lines of the situation.

Flash barked out a harsh laugh, “Harley, are you seriously friends with this loser?”

At hearing Flash’s words, the fight drained from Peter. He knew if he stayed there any longer that he _might _start crying. “Fuck you, Flash.” He spat out through gritted teeth, reserve energy going towards keeping up his carefully maintained façade.

Harley opened his mouth to say something but stopped upon seeing Peter’s face. The silence around the trio was stifling. Their gazes on Peter felt too heavy. It was suffocating. Out of options, Peter did the only thing he could: he walked away.

Peter walked away and didn’t look back, initial errand forgotten. Harley called after him but, in that moment, Peter couldn’t care less.

He should’ve brought his headphones.

\--

The aftermath of Peter’s run-in with Harley and Flash was awkward. Peter Parker was incapable of a poker face, so he didn’t even try to hide his distress upon returning to his apartment. Movie night was still in full swing and Peter elected to bypass the living room completely. He went straight to his bedroom, locked the door and fell asleep.

Ned, Betty and MJ knew something happened while he was out, that much was obvious. In the days following the encounter Harley acted strange as well but refused to talk about it (“It’s Peter’s business and if he wants to tell you he will”).

Peter stopped going to Starbucks too. He was once again a regular at Beck’s Coffee and the familiarity was soothing, something Peter desperately needed. Unfortunately, distancing himself from Starbucks (and Harley) also meant distancing himself from MJ. Betty was a permanent fixture in their apartment now, so he still saw her daily. Furthermore, Peter avoided the engineering labs like the plague after 4 in fear of being stuck in an elevator with Harley at any time during the evening.

This new arrangement was fine by Peter. He’d never had a lot of friends in high school or college. If he’d survived this long with just Ned, he could do it again. Harley wasn’t even his in the first place, so he had nothing to lament except a ‘what if.’ The five of them still had movie nights every Saturday but Peter avoided those too. Aunt May lived alone in Queens and Peter started spending the weekends at her apartment under the guise of studying in solitude for their impending finals.

The plan to evade Harley had worked for the first two weeks, but on the third Saturday of calculated avoidance, MJ showed up at his apartment while Peter was packing for May’s. Her presence made Peter consider for the first time that maybe, just maybe, he had blown the encounter with Flash out of proportion.

“Peter, we need to talk.”

“Nothin’ to talk about.” He said flatly as he continued packing his bag for the weekend.

“Oh, yes there is.” MJ put her hands on her hips and blocked his doorway. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re your friends too.”

Peter remained silent, but she knew he was listening.

“I don’t know what douche-y thing Harley did or didn’t do,” her voice softened as her no-nonsense demeanor faded, “but we all really miss you. I miss you.”

Peter swallowed thickly and his resolve started to crumble.

MJ continued, stepping into Peter’s room. “Movie night without you isn’t the same. Ned and Betty do disgusting couple things and Harley just broods.” Peter cracked a smile. “I’m not forcing you to talk to Harley, but please come back.”

Peter finally looked up. These weren’t tears in his eyes _dammit_, it was just seasonal allergies from all the open windows in their apartment. “Okay,” his voice cracked, “I-I’ll start coming back to Starbucks at least. When you're there.”

Peter offered MJ a reassuring smile and she returned it.

\--

The following Monday, Peter finally sent the text he’d had in his drafts for the past 2.5 weeks:

**We need to talk**

As soon as the message sent, Peter shoved the phone into his bag and was intent on ignoring it for the next few hours. He refused to seem desperate by checking his notifications every five seconds. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten to turn the vibration setting off. Every buzz of his cell phone made Peter jump a foot in the air, setting him on edge all day. Ned gave him sympathetic looks the few times they saw each other throughout the morning.

Harley’s response came a little after 3 when Peter was still working in Doctor Banner’s lab.

**I’ll finish in the lab around 7. Walk home with me?**

Harley knew Monday nights were Peter’s late nights in the lab, but it was bold of him to assume that he’d still be working at 7 (even though Harley was right). Not trusting himself with words, Peter shot off a quick ‘thumbs up’ emoji and slid his phone as far away from him as he could.

The next four hours were spent hunched over a lab bench, only coming up for air when Bruce came in to check on Peter. The scientist was slightly concerned, but Peter had been nothing less than a model student. After a month of working for him, Doctor Banner trusted Peter to work unsupervised in the lab when he left for the evening.

At 6:40 on the dot, Peter started packing up his lab equipment. Harley hadn’t texted that he was running behind and Peter wanted to beat him downstairs, so he had some time to calm his nerves outside. The engineering building had a small courtyard in front of it that was currently sporting flowers in full bloom from the spring rain. Peter chose the bench closest to the flora and waited for Harley, texting him where he was sitting.

He moved through several different positions in an attempt to get comfortable before simply giving up. There was no such thing as comfortable on a hard, wooden bench. When Peter caught sight of Harley's silhouette exiting the building, he stood up involuntarily. This was the first time in three weeks that the two had seen each other in more than just a passing glance. Peter’s stupid heart palpitated rapidly as Harley approached, clad in sweatpants and a university logoed long sleeve.

Ten feet

Five feet

Two feet

One

Harley stood directly in front of Peter and a beat of silence passed. Then, as if on cue, both boys started talking.

"Harley, I-"

"Peter, about-"

They cut off abruptly. Harley chuckled while Peter huffed in mild annoyance.

"I still look for you every shift."

Peter frowned, not following Harley's train of thought.

“At Starbucks. I look for you at your usual window table but you're not there anymore and it...sucks." Harley trailed off with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Peter opened his mouth to respond but Harley beat him to it once more, "I don't know what you think you saw, but I'm not friends with Flash and I wasn't lying to you. Flash was part of my product design team. We all met at my place to rehearse our final presentation since I live alone." Harley fixed Peter with one of the sincerest looks he'd ever seen, "Peter, I am so sorry for whatever Flash put you through. After you left, I, uh, I might have punched him in the face," he paused before adding, "and possibly sabotaged his part of the presentation.”

Peter smiled like an idiot. He felt…really stupid, for lack of a better vernacular. Peter didn't know Harley as well as he'd like to, but he should have at least trusted him to not abandon friends, or willingly associate with the likes of Flash Thompson.

It was official, Peter was the ineptest person in the city of New York.

“I –” The rest of the sentence was stuck in Peter's throat as he looked at Harley. His words simultaneously remained lodged in place while threatening to overflow and endanger the quiet of the night. If Peter had just talked to Harley instead of avoiding him, he could have spent the past three weeks looking into the sea of blue he’d missed so much. Aunt May was right, Peter really needed to work on getting out of his head more often.

“Am and idiot,” Harley finished as he looked down at Peter with a soft smile; a smile that Peter had come to realize was uniquely Harley. The two were closer now than they’d ever been before, one small move away from breaching ‘just friends.’

Harley’s gaze drifted from his eyes to Peter’s shirt. “I missed your stupid science pun shirts too. Darlin’, whoever told you they were cool was definitely lyin’.”

Peter elected to ignore the insult in favor of yanking Harley towards him by his shirt.

Kissing Harley felt like the last piece of a puzzle falling into place. The misery of the past three weeks was washed away and replaced by pure contentment. The world around Peter fell silent as his grip tightened on Harley’s shirt to pull the taller man impossibly closer. Peter was vaguely aware of hands coming up to comb through his curls, but he was too busy relishing in the scent of Harley’s cologne and the faint taste of coffee as Harley tipped his head back even further to deepen the kiss.

Peter pulled away first as his lungs screamed for air, sure that Harley’s stupid smile was reflected on his own face.

“We could have been doing that for ages,” Harley said pointedly.

Peter wasn’t listening though. He was too busy taking in Harley’s rumpled appearance, red lips and the breathless way in which he spoke. Intertwining their hands, he led Harley away from the engineering building and started their walk back home.

“Don’t worry _Darlin’_,” Harley laughed at Peter’s atrocious impersonation of him, “we’ve got all the time in the world.”

**BONUS:**

As soon as Peter walked through the door of their shared apartment, Ned knew exactly how Peter’s meeting with Harley went.

“See, aren’t you glad I decided to take you back to Starbucks?”

Peter jumped a foot in the air upon hearing Ned’s voice. He’d missed him sitting at their kitchen table. Peter regarded his best friend with a warm smile. “Yeah Ned, I think I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked the story please drop a comment, kudos or bookmark!
> 
> @Peter-Parkner on Tumblr


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